


heaven help a fool who falls in love

by anathema (azirapha1e)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Season 4 Spoilers, Smut, i am Emotional and this just sorta. happened, mentions of arachnophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 09:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azirapha1e/pseuds/anathema
Summary: “I’m going to call Even,” Eskild says slowly, "and tell him that you need rescuing from a spider. And then I’m going to go back to sleep, does that sound okay with you?”“No!” Isak cuts in frantically, “no, no, no, don’t tell him, you can’t tell-”“Cool!” Eskild says, singsong and airy. “Okay, Isak, love you too, don’t die before Even gets there.”“Eskild-”Eskild hangs up.





	

Eskild is very tired, but in the best kind of way. He’d spent the night with a French exchange student named Matteo, who has a six pack and a penthouse apartment and a shower with absolutely incredible water pressure. Said shower is currently occupied by Matteo. Eskild had been occupying it, too, until Matteo had complained that he was too hot and kept distracting him – thus leading Eskild to his current position, relaxing on an incredibly comfortable bed in a silk bathrobe.

Eskild’s life, in conclusion, is going pretty fucking well right now.

His phone buzzes. Without looking, Eskild reaches out to the bedside table and fumbles around for it, but just as his hand curls around the familiar plastic of the case, the buzzing stops. He sighs in relief. Then, as quickly as the silence had descended, it leaves again. Abruptly. Loudly.

Eskild groans, and reluctantly slides his thumb over the screen.

“Good mor-” he starts, but Isak doesn’t let him finish.

“Can you come over?” he says in a panicked rush.

Eskild frowns, sitting up.

“Isak?”

“Can you come over?” Isak repeats, “like, right now, as soon as possible?”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s, um. Something. I need help with.”

Eskild narrows his eyes.

“Are you being robbed?” he asks. “Is something on fire? Did you try to cook?”

“What the – no!” Isak squawks indignantly.

Nothing life threatening, then. It’s always good, Eskild has found, to eliminate that possibility. If imminent death is out of the question, a call from Isak before 10am is probably an existential crisis thing.

“Do you need advice?” Eskild asks. He switches to his Wise And Understanding Voice. “Is this a gay guru moment I need to be present for?”

“A gay guru – _what the fuck, Eskild_ – no! No, it’s… it’s a, it’s –”

“Isak.”

“There’s a really big spider in the kitchen,” Isak blurts out.

There is a brief, tenuous pause.

“A spider,” Eskild repeats, carefully.

“Don’t say it like that!” Isak snaps.

“All right, all right, jesus christ. Calm down, Isak, I’m not mocking you for being scared of-“

“I’m not scared of them,” Isak tells him, exasperated, “they’re just – it was too – I wasn’t-”

“I’m going to call Even,” Eskild says slowly, "and tell him that you need rescuing from a spider. And then I’m going to go back to sleep, does that sound okay with you?”

“No!” Isak cuts in frantically, “no, no, no, don’t tell him, you can’t tell-”

“Cool!” Eskild says, singsong and airy. “Okay, Isak, love you too, don’t die before Even gets there.”

“ _Eskild_ -”

Eskild hangs up.

 

* * *

 

In Isak’s defence, he really isn’t scared of spiders. Normal, small, regular sized spiders: completely fine, he doesn’t care. He’d rather they not touch him, or go within ten feet of him, and if he sees one he’ll leave the room, but that doesn’t mean he’s scared. He just doesn’t like them. It’s a matter of distaste, not fear. Nothing should have that many legs.

Hairy behemoths that hide behind toasters, though. Quick moving ones that plan their attack while you’re making breakfast, and then leap at you for no reason other than they want you to suffer. Those are a different story.

Isak is sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter – feet firmly and safely off the ground. The broom that is usually hidden away behind the door is in his hands, pointed threateningly at the floor. He’s been here for at least ten minutes. They’ve reached a stand-off: one of them needs to move first, and Isak was initially adamant that it wouldn’t be him, but the spider is stubbornly remaining hidden in the dark shadowed space beneath the cupboard under the sink, so. Well.

They both know it’s going to be him.

Usually, in a Bug Situation such as this, it would be Even – but Even, because he is a terrifyingly functional and cheery morning person, has picked up the habit of going for a run at daybreak, thus leaving Isak and the kitchen broom as the spider’s only opponents. Which is delightful and exactly what Isak likes to do at 8am.

Mustering his courage, he pokes the dark mass of shadows with his bristly weapon of choice.

Lo and behold, the spider appears, somehow hairier and even more awful than he remembers. Isak doesn’t squeak, exactly, but he makes a noise that could possibly be misconstrued as a squeak by someone unaware that he has this situation entirely under control and isn’t scared of spiders at all.

_Hit it_ , Isak’s brain advises frantically. _Just do it, hit it quickly, get it over with, come on_ –

but he hesitates for a second too long, and the spider does some sort of horrifying, gravity defying wriggling movement –

and then, suddenly, it’s scuttling up the broom handle.

“Fuck!” Isak yells. He drops the broom instinctively – it clatters to the floor and he hurriedly wipes his hands on his shirt, like the proximity had somehow tainted them with spider essence. The spider is motionless for a moment. Isak watches on hopefully, until a hairy leg twitches.

Isak jumps, banging his knee against the surface of the counter.

“Fuck,” he repeats under his breath.

“Hey, Princess Vivian,” Even’s voice says from the doorway.

Isak turns.

“I was told there was a spider?” Even continues, grinning. He looks far, far too good for someone who just went running at 8am on a Saturday morning. “And that it was tormenting my boyfriend?”

Isak sinks his face into his hands.

“Jesus christ,” he groans. “I thought Eskild was bluffing.”

“Nope,” Even says brightly. “Here I am. Your designated spider remover, here to rescue you.”

“I don’t need rescuing,” Isak argues stubbornly. Even raises his eyebrows, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re hiding on the countertop,” he points out.

Isak reddens.

“I’m not _hiding_ ,” he retorts, rolling his eyes and scowling a little, “I’m being _tactical_ -”

Even kisses him then, stepping forward to stand neatly in between Isak’s legs. His mouth is soft and his hands are gentle when they run over Isak’s thighs, stroking his back, pulling him closer. Isak sighs and leans into him, his body losing some of its tension as he wraps his arms around Even’s neck.

“Hi,” Even says quietly.

“Hey,” Isak says, his voice slightly muffled, head tucked into Even’s shoulder. Even nudges their noses together until Isak looks up.

“Where is it?” Even asks, kissing the corner of his mouth. Isak sighs.

“Under the sink,” he mutters in defeat. Even kisses him again, then takes a step back and kneels on the floor in front of the spider’s hideout.

“What are you doing?” Isak asks, frowning.

Even squints up at him.

“I’m just going to pick it up?” he says confusedly. “And then put it outside?”

“With your hands?” Isak says, voice a little higher than he intends.

“Picking things up is kind of the point of hands,” Even points out.

_Things like mugs and bags and boyfriends_ , Isak thinks, dazed and mildly horrified. _Not spiders. How many spiders has this terrible boy picked up?_

He hides a shudder.

“No,” he says firmly. “What the fuck, I don’t care where you put it, but you’re not getting any for a month if you touch it with your bare hands.”

“Wait, I’m getting something?” Even says, grinning. He stands and moves closer to Isak again, hands settling on his calves, but when he leans closer for a kiss Isak pulls back.

“Not if you touch that spider, asshole,” Isak says, and then Even’s hand moves further up and he can’t help it when his breath hitches.

“Even,” he says, exasperated. Even’s thumb strokes small circles over his inner thigh.

“I’m helping you relax,” Even says, the picture of innocence. “You look so tense. Stress isn’t good for you.”

_Okay,_ Isak thinks. _So that’s how we’re playing this._

He leans forward, close enough that their noses brush – tilts his head just so, the way he knows Even likes, lips slightly parted, breath hot on Even’s mouth.

“I’m stressed,” he says, lowly, “because I’d really like to be fucked right now, but we can’t do that until you get rid of the thing that’s invaded our kitchen, so I think you should try to hurry up.”

Isak kisses him, slow and dirty and teasing. When he pulls back, Even’s eyes are dark.

“Go on,” Isak tells him magnanimously. “Go save me. So we can do other things.”

“Bossy,” Even murmurs, and presses a final kiss to the corner of Isak’s mouth before reluctantly pulling away.

“Okay,” he says. “Under the sink.”

Isak nods. Even grabs the discarded broom and pokes carefully at the shadowy space under the cupboard. For a moment, everything is still – and then a black Something scuttles across the floor. Isak flinches, hastily shuffling backwards and away from the countertop’s edge.

“Isak, it’s tiny,” Even says, laughing a little.

“Fucking – no, it’s not!” Isak says, his voice bordering on shrill. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared of it too!”

“Your _thumbnail_ is bigger.”

The spider creeps forward on the floor. Isak twitches, cursing under his breath.

“Close your eyes,” Even advises.

“No,” Isak says stubbornly. Even shoots him a look – a raised eyebrows, ‘are you sure you want to go down this road’ kind of look – and Isak compromises, looking up at the ceiling and huffing loudly, arms crossed.

He can hear the sound of the broom being placed on the floor. He can hear Even cooing gentle encouragements (which, what the fuck, that thing was vicious, it had ambushed him), and then he can hear Even’s footsteps as he walks to the backdoor, the click of the latch as it opens, the quiet rustling of the broom being gently shaken.

The backdoor shuts. The sound of Even’s footsteps returns. Isak exhales a long sigh of relief.

“Isak,” Even says, pressing kisses to his cheeks. “Issy, you can look. It’s gone.”

“Did you touch it?” Isak asks, as Even’s lips brush down his jawline.

“I didn’t,” Even murmurs between kisses, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Isak says, quietly. He pulls Even closer between his legs, Even’s mouth hot on his neck – and this, this is how Isak would have preferred his morning to start.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hands in Even’s hair as Even bites the sensitive skin just above Isak’s collarbone. He fits his legs around Even’s hips; he wants him closer, he wants friction, he wants –

Even’s hands move under his thighs, lifting him up. Isak inhales sharply, arms moving instinctively to wrap around Even’s neck as Even carries him across the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he says, laughing, and Even stops walking to kiss his cheek, adjusting his hold on Isak.

“How else would you get across the spider-tainted floor?” Even asks, his expression serious.

“I have legs,” Isak informs him dryly.

“I mean,” Even says, “if that’s what you really want,” and as his voice trails off he loosens his grip just enough that Isak slips a little, has to tighten his thighs around Even’s waist, hold onto his neck more firmly.

“Don’t you dare,” Isak warns him lowly. Even smiles, holding him properly again, and brushes their noses together.

“Kiss me,” Even whispers. He’s barely finished speaking before Isak does, leaning forward to put his mouth on Even’s, doing what he’s wanted to do since Even first stepped through the door. It’s chaste, and likely would have stayed that way if Isak hadn’t let his lips part slightly, hadn’t let Even slip his tongue into his mouth. Even’s lips are plush and soft and when he presses kisses to them he’s rewarded with Even’s shaky inhale, Even’s hands tightening their grip on his thighs, pulling him closer. Isak’s hands stroke his neck, then move upwards to curl into Even’s hair. Even kisses him again, a little deeper, a little more rough, takes Isak’s bottom lip and kisses and bites until Isak whimpers, hands white knuckled in Even’s hair.

“Not to break the mood,” Even murmurs against his mouth, “but I’ll have to put you down soon.”

Isak hums contemplatively, ducking his head to nose at Even’s neck.

“Do you think you could make it to the bed?” he asks, and he can feel Even’s smile in the kiss that’s brushed against his forehead.

“I think we should try,” he says, and Isak laughs, hiding his face in Even’s neck as Even walks them both out of the kitchen and down the hallway. They stumble over the threshold of their room and Even drops him unceremoniously on the sheets, breathless and laughing. Isak sprawls out on his back, grinning, drinking the moment in: Even’s smile, the sunlight catching in his hair and on his cheeks, the way he’s looking at Isak, soft and fond.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Isak says, “throwing me down like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Even answers, climbing onto the bed next to him, straddling Isak’s hips, his hands resting on either side of the pillow beneath Isak’s head.

“Not at all,” Isak breathes, leaning up to close the distance between them, pulling Even down and kissing him warm and open-mouthed. Even’s hands slip under his shirt, stroking over his hips and moving lower until Isak’s breath stutters.

“You could – you could make it up to me,” he manages as Even kisses down his neck, moves his hand again in a way that makes a rush of heat flood down Isak’s spine.

“Yeah?” Even says, fingers playing with the waistband of Isak’s boxers. Isak swallows, takes Even’s hand and presses it down, grinds against it; his eyes slip shut as he moans.

“Fuck,” Even says, his voice low and caught somewhere between wonder and arousal, and Isak barely has time to process that he’s moving before Even is between his legs, nosing Isak’s cock through the cotton, his breath hot on Isak’s skin even with the fabric between them.

Isak gasps, his hands gripping the sheets, and says, “Even, Even, _please_ ,” and Even’s mouth is on him, hot and wet and perfect. Isak’s hands find their way into Even’s hair, pull hard enough that Even moans around his cock, and Isak’s hips thrust up of their own accord – Even meets him halfway, taking him deeper, and the rhythm of it isn’t enough, is too much –

Even’s hands are there to settle him as he pulls off, panting, pressing kisses to Isak’s shaking thighs.

“Eager,” he says as he sits up, and fuck, he’s a mess, his blue eyes dark and his mouth slick and flushed red.

“Fuck off,” Isak says, and he opens his mouth to add a comeback but Even is cupping Isak’s neck and pulling him forward into Even’s lap, into a kiss that’s wet and open-mouthed. Isak grinds down against Even’s thigh, whines when it isn’t enough, and Even wraps his hand around Isak’s cock, working with the rhythm of his thrusts. His thumb brushes over the head in a way that makes Isak shudder and press his forehead against Even’s chest, and that’s all it takes for the wave to break – Even tilts his chin up, pressing their mouths together as Isak comes, and it’s perfect, it’s perfect, it’s perfect.

“I think,” Even tells him a minute or so later, stroking his hair, “this apology should have more than one part. To increase its effectiveness.”

“Mhm. Tell me your plan,” Isak says, shifting so he can sit upright in Even’s arms. Even drops a kiss on his shoulder and wraps his arms around Isak’s waist.

“Well, that was part one. Part two can be in the shower, since you just ruined my shirt –”

“Technically,” Isak argues, “you started it and ruined your own shirt-”

“And part three,” Even continues, “will be here, in our room, after we meet Sana and the girls for brunch.”

Isak groans.

“Can’t part three happen before?”

Even laughs, and noses his hair.

“After,” he promises. Isak sighs. He leans his head back on Even’s shoulder, smiling, his eyes dropping to Even’s mouth. Even knows what he’s asking for and obliges, kissing him softly.

“I like it when you say that,” Isak says quietly when they break apart. “Our room.”

Even’s arms tighten around him.

“I like it too,” he answers, and his voice is so warm and gentle that Isak has to kiss him again, has to turn his head and hold Even’s face in his hands and kiss him sweetly and reverently, because he needs Even to understand. To know the feeling he sparks in Isak’s chest.

“Our room,” Isak says. “In our flat.”

Even kisses the tip of his nose.

“Our room,” he repeats, smiling, and Isak leans in and kisses the curve of his mouth.

“Shower with me?” he asks, toying with Even's fringe. Even slips off the bed and takes hold of Isak's hands, tugging him to his feet.

“Of course,” he says. “Are you sure you can get there by yourself, though?”

Isak snorts.

“Are you offering to carry me?”

“Maybe,” Even answers. His voice is light and casual. “Would you say yes?”

“Maybe,” Isak murmurs. He wraps his arms around Even’s neck, tilts his head and asks wordlessly for a kiss, and Even meets him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> i am Incredibly Shit at replying to comments (i try!! but like. anxiety. u feel) but that said, if u want to cry about skam feel free to hmu on [tumblr!](http://www.azirapha1e.tumblr.com) thank u for reading pals, i hope u have a good day <3


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